


And On Gossamer Wings (We Fly)

by WatanabeMaya



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Childhood, F/M, Fire, Ice, Kissing, Titans, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatanabeMaya/pseuds/WatanabeMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of firsts in the story of Eren and Mikasa; of fire and of ice, and an alternative take on the relationship between the two. / EreMika oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And On Gossamer Wings (We Fly)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin.

The first time he lays his eyes on her, he thinks, despite the irony of things, that she is absolutely  _fragile_.

Bodies are scattered around the house, corpses that the children have just recently created; all shattered bones and spilled blood, entrails strewn mercilessly on the floor. A single head lolls to the side, eyes dulled with the vision of death. It is reality's masterpiece of a child's greatest nightmare.

"W-wh-what…h-have I-" she questions herself, the knife falling from her hands as her eyes blink open to face the truth.

"Shh, it's alright. It's alright," he coos and placates, catching her petite figure as her knees give way. The smaller child cries in his arms, tears soaking his already damp shirt.

And he is warm –  _so, so warm –_ Mikasa thinks as she gives in, his gentle voice cradling her emotional being in its merciful hold.

"Are you cold? Oh, I'm Eren. Doctor Jäger's son. What's your name?" the boy opts for a distraction, asking even though he already knows the answer.

"M-Mikasa," she says, fingers trembling, frame shaking; her voice a choked sob.

"Mikasa," he repeats with a smile as he wraps the warm red wool around her, the sound of her name a precious ring like bells against crystal. "Let's go home."

-x-x-

"The Titans are to blame. If only we could defeat them, we would regain our place in this world," Eren says as the three of them stand beneath the dim light of the alleyway. "I've decided. I'm going to join the Recon Corps."

" _Eren_ ," Mikasa reprimands him softly, her voice firm and yet unmistakably gentle. She is older now, more mature, but even then, still powerless against his will. "You can't _."_

"I've already made up my mind," he rebuts. "I'm applying for military training next year."

And Armin can do nothing but watch. For he has known Eren for so long, longer even than the short span of time that has been shared between Eren and Mikasa. Armin knows that there is no stopping Eren, this boy composed of warmth and strength and unfaltering dreams, this boy with whom he had once shared the same aspirations as he.

"Me too," Armin says at last, his voice an initial whisper before he repeats. "Me too!"

"I'm going to become strong enough to fight them," the brunette says, determined. He speaks his mind with his eyes ablaze with passion and fervor, a distinct vitality unlike any other. He, the brightest spark of a promise amidst their godforsaken land, is, as many would conclude, the flame of hope for all of humanity.

And where Eren is fire, Mikasa is ice.

Cold and alluring, powerful and relentless. They are a pair, one and the same, and at the same time, two entities distinctly different. They are a contradiction of sorts, an oxymoronic state of being – but then again,  _don't people always say that opposites do attract?_

"Then, " the girl speaks up. "I'll join you, too."

"Mikasa?" Eren exclaims. "You don't have to! You said survival is the most important thing."

"Yes, and I will be there to ensure your safety."

He loves her and he trusts her, and yet, at the same time, he cannot bring himself to face the risk of losing her.

For she is fragile. Like ice and glass and precious crystal.

And it is for these reasons that she is all his to protect.

But the tables have turned and the world has shifted, and Eren knows he cannot stop her. Nothing can stop her. So he listens. He listens, and he hesitates, until finally, he acquiesces.

"All right, we'll all join."

-x-x-

The first time he holds her is on their last night as children, when they are on the cusp to adulthood, and a single night away from becoming recruited into the army.

The first time he holds her, there is no guarantee that it wouldn't be their last.

"So, it's finally tomorrow, huh," Eren says, breaking the silence and threatening the frailty of their rekindled bonds. "It's when we leave that the battle will truly begin."

Her fingers twirl around the stray puff of wool at the edge of her scarf as Eren leans against the trunk of the old larch tree, their gazes turning upwards to face the bright shimmer of the silver moon – the eye of heaven watching over them amidst the still calm of the evening; the maestro in the orchestra of their galaxy's stars, the commander of the sky as it plays on in the night. They turn to the moon, their apotheosis and their shield, their quintessential protector as they drift on freely in far away dreams.

"When I die," Mikasa starts, her voice trailing off into the distant quiet. She says  _'when'_ and not  _'if'_ because she  _knows_  –has always been aware of the inevitability in the nature of death.

And it is the truth, Eren admits, that all humans will die. It is their anathema – their curse, their fate.

But contradictorily, they both realize, there is an air of uncertainty that lingers around death as well. Nobody can say for sure when they will die. The factors of time, place, and manner are always far beyond one's own control.

_And that is what makes death so fearful._

"When I die," she says again, repeating her words to grab hold of Eren's attention, "I want you to scatter my ashes right here, in the forest where we first met."

Eren doesn't refuse the girl when she asks him to write her future eulogy. Nor can he promise her that he will be able to fulfill her last request. There is always a possibility –  _in which Eren places his hopes_  - that Mikasa will outlast him. That she will live longer –  _and much, much happier_  – than he.

And his feelings come crashing down like rocks in a landslide, a plethora of words and emotions his lips still lack the power to express.

"Mikasa, I –"

"Eren," she says, leaning in close. " _Please, Eren."_

And in this very moment, she is hot hot  _hot._ Hands warm, body burning against him, her very touch searing into the depths of his soul. All he can do is muster a small nod as he takes in the lithe nature of her frame, cradling her hands in the palms of his.

There are no more words spoken that night. Only the exchange of breaths as Eren presses against her, their foreheads resting on one another's, lips meeting as they stand underneath the stars.


End file.
